


Bad Medicine

by Grinder1833



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Sam Winchester, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e03 Bad Day at Black Rock, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinder1833/pseuds/Grinder1833
Summary: Dean hasn't touched Sam since he sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead. After a day filled with bad luck, Sam has finally reached his breaking point.





	Bad Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. They are property of “Supernatural,” Warner Bros. Television and Kripke Enterprises.
> 
> A/N: Un-beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

Sam was ready for this bad day to be over. He had coffee spilled on him, tripped and fell, lost his shoe, nearly been burned to a crisp, and it was topped off with being shot in the shoulder. All thanks to a cursed rabbit’s foot and a bitch named Bela. 

Now that the rabbit’s foot had been burned, he hoped his bout with bad luck was over. 

“Come on, get that jacket and shirt off,” Dean told Sam the moment the door to their motel room clicked shut. 

A year ago, Sam would have made some sexual innuendo or joke, which would’ve been sure to get a smile from his brother. A year ago, Dean hadn’t sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead. Their dad has still been alive. He hadn’t made his demon deal to save Dean yet either. Sam and Dean were still together. Well, as together as one could be when they were fucking their brother. 

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring Dean. He dropped his duffle onto the bed closest to the bathroom. Seeing the room had two beds shouldn’t have annoyed Sam as much as it did. More times than not they got two beds and it wasn’t a big deal. They’d still have sex regardless of how many beds were in the room. One was often used for their duffels and weapons. The other they shared. All was well. 

Except all hasn’t been well since Dean made the deal. The last time Dean touched him was the crushing hug he gave Sam after he discovered Sam was back from the dead. Sam thought once they put Cold Oak behind them things would get back to normal between them. 

At least their fucked up version of normal. 

But no. 

Dean went on a weeklong fuck-fest with women. He capped it all off with a ménage a trios with twins. Sam tried to laugh it off, but it felt like Jake’s knife twisted in his gut instead of his back this time. 

Sam shrugged out of his blood-soaked jacket, hissing as the pain shot through his shoulder. Fucking Bela. Fucking bullet. 

Dean was by his side ninja-quick. “Hey, hey, easy now, tiger,” he said, taking hold of the jacket. “Let me do that.”

“I’ve already got it off.”

Dean stepped in front of him. “You were shot, Sam. You have a bullet stuck in your shoulder that I need to get out so stop acting like a little bitch and let me help you.” 

Sam needed Dean’s help because it would be a lot easier than trying to patch himself up. He sighed. “Fine.”

Dean unbuttoned Sam’s shirt. He removed it carefully so he couldn’t cause Sam any more pain than absolutely necessary. However, Dean didn’t seem to realize he'd been causing Sam pain since he made the demon deal. “Why don’t you have a seat while I get the first aid kit so I can get you patched up,” Dean said quietly. Sam did as he was told. At this point, all he wanted to do was get the damn bullet out of his shoulder and go to bed. Dean returned with a bottle of cheap whiskey and medical supplies. 

“Here.” Dean thrust the bottle at him. “Drink up, buttercup.”

Wordlessly Sam grabbed the bottle and took a long pull from it. The whiskey scorched a path down his throat. Dean sat down next to Sam. He dug in their makeshift first aid kit and got out all of the tools he’d need: tweezers, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, a penlight, bandages, and medical tape.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Dean said, giving him a quick once-over.

“Hurts like a bitch.” Sam muttered and took another drink of whiskey. He wanted to drown all the pain away—the wound, Dean’s distance from him, and the ticking clock that was Dean’s year slipping away. 

“I’ll make you feel better,” Dean said as he sterilized the tweezers with the rubbing alcohol. 

Sam snorted. The hell he would. Dean refused to give him what he really needed.

Dean either didn’t notice his brother’s discontent or didn’t care to acknowledge it. He went to work like a practiced surgeon, using the penlight to examine the wound. They’d done this so many times that they were practically doctors. Sam remembered the endless first aid lessons their dad had given them which had come in handy over the years. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean was getting ready to move in for the bullet. Another drink was in order. 

Bottoms up. 

“Okay, I’m going in,” Dean announced. 

“Just do it, Dean.”

He shook his head, a little annoyed, but proceeded to carefully extract the bullet. “Yahtzee!” Dean held up the bullet for Sam to see before he tossed it toward the waste can. “Let’s get this bandaged up. I think we might have some antibiotics left for you to take.” 

Dean smoothed his hands over Sam’s bare skin. Sam shuddered. Dean’s touch felt so fucking good. He was starving for it, almost embarrassingly so. His dick was half-hard from Dean patching him up. This was sad and pathetic. Sam hated it had come to this.

“You getting a little excited there?” Dean teased as he applied the fresh bandage to the wound. 

Normally Sam would have a witty comment or move in for a kiss, but that was before the fucking deal. “Some of us haven’t been fucking every female in sight,” he replied bitterly. 

“A man has needs, Sammy,” he said smugly.

“It’s Sam.” He ground out. Sam hadn’t corrected Dean in a long time, because he loved it when Dean called him Sammy. Dean was the only one who was allowed to call him Sammy. But as far as he was concerned, Dean had lost the privilege. 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Is it now?” 

“Yup.” Sam dared to meet Dean’s gaze. Dean wasn’t happy with this turn of events. His eyes betrayed him. Hurt lurked there. 

Good. 

Dean’s expression hardened. He dug through the first aid kit and produced a bottle of meds. “Here.” He tossed them to Sam. “Don’t forget to take the antibiotics. I don’t need to haul your ass to a hospital for an infection.” 

Sam swallowed the pill and chased it with the whiskey. “I know what you’ve been doing,” he said calmly. 

“Me too,” Dean replied, tossing the supplies back into the small bag. “I’m being a regular Florence Nightingale to your ungrateful ass.”

“You’re also being an ass.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the problem,” Sam said to him. “You won’t. You’ll fuck anyone, but me these days. Hell, you won’t even kiss me.”

“I didn’t realize you cared.” Dean was full of false bravado. 

“You care.” Sam challenged him. “That’s why you’ve been keeping me at arm’s length. You don’t want to fuck anymore because you think you’re going to die in eleven months. Somehow, you think you’re protecting me, but you’re not. In your fucked up logic, you think that if you just keep hooking up then I’ll stop wanting you. You’re wrong.”

“You’re the one who is wrong.” Dean sprang up from the bed, grabbing the medical supplies. He took them over to his duffle and dropped them inside it. “I know you, Dean. You think you’re looking out for me. You’ve got to stop.”

“I will never stop looking out for you,” he said, keeping his back to Sam. 

“And I’ll never stop wanting you.”

Dean turned around, slowly shaking his head. “This is only going to end badly.”

“I won’t let you die.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Dean leaned against the table, folding his arms. 

“The hell I don’t.” Sam stood up and stalked over to Dean. “You’re not going to Hell.” He got all up into Dean’s space. “And you’re going to stop fucking everything with tits and a pulse. You didn’t bring me back so you could ignore me. And I’m done not doing anything about it.” 

Dean’s eyes widened. Before he could say anything, Sam was kissing him. Hard and sloppy. Dean tried to pull away but Sam held Dean’s head in place. Dean moaned, rutting up against him. Sam knew once Dean was reminded what he’d been missing he’d be back on board. 

And he was right.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed. 

“Fuck me,” Sam commanded. 

Dean didn’t waste any time getting Sam’s belt undone, followed by his jeans. He slipped his hand inside Sam’s underwear and wrapped his hands around Sam’s hot, hard dick. 

“Is this what you need?” Dean asked, nibbling Sam’s ear.

“I need more. I need all of you.”

Dean walked Sam back toward the bed, never taking his hand off Sam’s dick. Sam hit the bed and fell back against it. He hissed when his shoulder jarred against the mattress. 

“Careful,” Dean said, grabbing Sam’s foot and untying his boot. He did the same for the other foot, tossing the boot and sock to the floor.

“Take off your clothes.” 

“Hang on, you pushy bottom.” Dean shook his head and then kicked off his boots, followed by the rest of his clothes while Sam wiggled out of his jeans and underwear. He went over his duffle to get out the lube and a condom. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t run out,” Sam said when Dean tossed the condom on the bed.

Dean draped himself over Sam and grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he growled.

Sam stared up at him defiantly. “Make me.”

Dean kissed him roughly, still keeping hold of his hair. Sam could feel Dean’s hard cock, pressing into his stomach. He wanted it fucking inside him. Right the fuck now.

“Fuck me,” Sam said, moving his mouth away from Dean’s. He stared up at Dean whose lips were red and swollen, glistening with salvia. His green eyes were almost black with desire. 

Dean studied Sam’s face for a few moments. No one bossed Dean around. Correction, almost no one. Their father had barked orders at Dean all time. He never dared to defy one, being Dad’s good soldier. Sam could also get Dean to bend to his will. Most times. Usually, there had to be puppy eyes and dimples to get his way. A flat our order from his baby brother never went over well with Dean. 

Sam wrapped a leg around Dean, shifting ever so slightly to remind Dean how hard he was for him. “Dean.”

Dean let go of Sam’s hair and grabbed the condom. He rolled off Sam so he could put it on. He snatched the lube and opened it. He squirted some onto his fingers and the rest coated his cock. 

“Just fuck me,” Sam breathed when Dean pressed his finger against Sam’s hole. 

“Are you sure you didn’t take a shot to the head?”

“I need you now,” Sam said. He loved being fucked by Dean. Loved everything they did together. It didn’t matter if he topped, bottomed or they just blew each other, because when they were like this, naked and in bed together, it was nirvana. 

Not having Dean in this way for weeks had made Sam desperate for it. Too much time had been wasted. The clock was ticking on Dean’s deal. He couldn’t lose Dean. He refused to lose this. 

Them.

“Now,” Sam said more forcefully. “I need to feel.” Sam met Dean’s eyes, hoping he understand what he needed. 

“I’ll make you feel.”

Dean pushed into him in one long, blissfully agonizing stroke. Sam hooked his ankles around Dean’s back as Dean rocked into him. Each thrust more forceful than the last. Burn, baby, burn. The stretch, the fullness. _Yes._ Sam reveled in all of it, groaning loudly, gripping Dean tightly, and digging his heels harder into Dean’s back. 

This was what Sam needed. He’d never live without it. Dean sold his soul for him, now Sam would do everything in his power to make sure the deal never came due. He’d save Dean. Or he’d die trying. 

Sam came. Hard. Dean didn’t even need to touch his cock. He lay under him, coming apart as Dean got closer to his orgasm. Dean buried his face in the crook of Sam’s neck when he came, mumbling a bunch of nonsense. One word he could make out clearly was “mine.” 

Yes, he was Dean’s. 

And Dean was his.

Forever.

When Dean pulled out, Sam didn’t have the energy to get up to find a washcloth to clean up. There was a box of tissues on the nightstand. Sam grabbed a couple and wiped up the come that had already started to dry on his stomach while Dean tied off the condom. Dean tossed it toward the trash can and celebrated when it went in with a thud. 

“Proud of yourself?” Sam asked, tossing the tissues onto the floor. 

“Yup.” Dean grinned like he’d done when they won the grand prize a Biggerson’s. It lit up the dim, dingy room. He didn’t see this smile from Dean enough. He glanced down at Sam’s chest, hesitating for a moment before he rested his head against it. 

Sam closed his eyes and smiled. Dean cuddling against him like this was rare. Although Dean wouldn’t dare call this cuddling. He’d just say he was using Sam as a human pillow. 

Dean tentatively touched the bandage. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Then you better never push me away again,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “That hurt worse than any gunshot wound.”

“Dramatic much?” Dean mumbled.

“It’s the truth.” Sam wasn’t going to let him off easily. “I can understand that occasional hookup but to throw it in my face and then there was Lisa—” Dean lifted his head, blinking at Sam. “Nothing happened with Lisa.”

“I’m supposed to believe that nothing happened with Miss Bendy.” Sam snorted. “She was the reason you dragged my ass to Indiana.” 

“I didn’t hook up with her,” Dean insisted. “I wouldn’t lie about that, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, I believe you.” Satisfied Dean snuggled against Sam again. “What about her kid? Ben was it?” Sam asked because he just had to know even if he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the news if he were suddenly an uncle. 

Dean tensed slightly. “What about him?” he mumbled against Sam’s chest.

“Well, he seemed…uh…he kinda reminded me…”

Dean cut him off. “He’s not. He’s not my kid.”

“You sure?” Sam asked. In the little time he’d spent with Ben he certainly reminded him of Dean when they were kids. 

“Yeah, I’m sure, Sam,” Dean replied curtly. “I asked her and she said no. End of story.”

Dean’s reaction surprised him. He thought Dean would be relieved not to be a father. He never longed for the “apple pie life” or any semblance of normal. Dean thrived on the whole saving people, hunting things. Sam brushed his fingers along the nape of Dean’s neck. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Dean said quietly. “I’m the one who should be sayin’ sorry. Everything you said before—you weren’t exactly wrong.” 

Hun. 

Dean admitted in his own Dean way that Sam was right. Maybe there was hope for them yet. Sam needed to figure out a way to convince Dean that he could save him. He would. 

One step at a time.


End file.
